I am hoping that no one reading this post has been saddled with the virus from hell.
I have been suffering for over two weeks now.
Nothing helps, but I do have a remedy for temporary relief from the 24/7 agony that this virulent virus dumps on you.
Binge watch, The Crown.
For all the those who think I am roping you into a mundane history lesson, you couldn’t be more wrong.
The show is compelling, addictive and beautifully shot.
The Crown focuses on Queen Elizabeth II as a 25-year-old newlywed faced with the daunting prospect of leading the world’s most famous monarchy while simultaneously forging a relationship with the legendary imposing Prime Minister, Sir Winston Churchill.
The Queen’s private journey behind the public facade is portrayed with daring frankness.
The revelations are more juicy than the front page of the Star.
Is heart throb, Prince Harry, actually a clone of his grandfather, Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh?
Does the royal family have any power to make decisions in their own self-interest?
Was Queen Elizabeth willing to tolerate any randy behavior from Philip because she was so madly in love with him?
There are many images of the Queen’s hands in the frames…I am stupefied my how small her diamond engagement ring is. Did she upgrade? After all, the crown jewels are hers to have. So surprised she does not adhere to the timeless motto, “Never accept anything under 4 carats.”
When did the Queen Mom become a living icon when previously she was considered Cookie, a dumpy, dull monarch.
Who knew that the Duke of Windsor (Prince Edward, Duke of Windsor, formerly King Edward VIII) who abdicated the throne over his love for American divorcee, Wallis Simpson, was such a catty bitch?
Do not dally…this is a jewel of a show.
Please, just don’t be overly influenced and start smoking.
Polish your tiara, don a strand of pearls and dive into the provocative show:
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